


Writing to Escape

by datenshibug



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, can you tell i wrote this nearly all in one sitting, dream wanted to be a writer so here we are
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28499910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/datenshibug/pseuds/datenshibug
Summary: The page loads. His thoughts stop dead in their tracks. His breath hitches. His eyes scan the page intensely, over and over again, trying to make sense of what he’s reading. This isn’t…“Is your wifi bad or something? Do you have it open?”This is...“...Clay?”I wrote this.dream writes fics to get his emotions out, george sends him fics to read together. you see where this is going.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	Writing to Escape

_ 3:52am _ , he squints to read the time glaring at him from his computer.  _ Eight more minutes, and I swear I’ll go to sleep _ . This wasn’t anywhere near the first time he neglected a proper sleep schedule, but usually he had company to keep him awake. Right now, the only thing preventing him from calling it a night was sheer willpower alone. And he was truly alone, in this moment, yet he did not mind. He wouldn’t want anyone finding out what kept him up, endlessly typing away at his ever-growing document, letting all of his emotions flow through him and onto the keyboard.

He yawns, wiping a small bead from his eye. He knows he needs to rest. He also knows if he takes a break now, he won’t have the opportunity to work on this anytime soon, so he pushes through until nearly falling asleep in his chair. He moves from his desk to his bed, cursing his need for sleep, and easily passes out.

A week later, a small chime rings from his phone. 

_ i found another funny one, want to read over vc?  _

He unlocks his phone and doesn’t bother responding to the text before hopping in his designated voice chat. “Hey, George!”

“That was quick, you really want to read this or something?” The voice through his headset chuckles.

“What, like it isn’t fun for you?” He defends himself. “I mean, if it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be actively searching for them.”

The two have collected a new hobby of finding various fanfiction about themselves and dramatically reading it over voice chat. Anything goes, from heartwarming fluff to more risque topics. It never fails to make George laugh, and Clay would do anything to hear that vibrant laugh resonate through his soul, sending chills down his spine every single time.

He realizes he’s completely tuned out what George has been saying in favor of focusing on how his mouth must be moving to get the words out. How the corners of his lips turn up so perfectly when he smiles. How his eyes hold so much raw emotion, how... 

“Clay? Are you there?” He snaps back, worried he just missed something important. “Yeah? Yeah I’m here, what was that?” He focuses himself on listening instead of zoning out.

“I said I sent you the link, I’ve already got it open on my end.” Clay clicks the link, wondering what awaits him on the other side.  _ Smut would be funny, especially if it was some super raunchy- _

The page loads. His thoughts stop dead in their tracks. His breath hitches. His eyes scan the page intensely, over and over again, trying to make sense of what he’s reading.  _ This isn’t… _

“Hello? Is your wifi bad or something? Do you have it open?”

_ This is... _

“...Clay?”

_ I wrote this. _

  
  


* * *

“Dude, can you hear me? Is everything okay? I swear if your wifi just went out…”

He panics. This is NOT how he wanted this night to go. Usually George picks out the more absurd fics, something they can both laugh at without a care in the world. This was different. This was what Clay had spent weeks on, what he would pour his feelings into after a hard day of neglecting them around George. This was raw, this wasn’t meant to be read by anyone. This wasn’t meant to be read by George.

“I’m... I’m here, George. Sorry, uh, Patches was trying to let herself into my room. I got distracted.”

George laughs; it’s the same laugh that keeps Clay from being able to sleep at night. The bastard doesn’t even know what he’s doing. “You’re good, want to get started?”

His hand trembles, his mouse cursor gently shaking on the screen. The first line stares him dead in the face, now holding a different weight than it did the first time he had seen it.

“I-it was a stormy Florida afternoon. The raindrops’ sweet melody rang against the rooftops. Dream couldn’t hear them over the sound of his-” He pauses. “friend’s laughter through his headset.”

How did George find this? It wasn’t even that popular. Did he know? Could he just tell by how it was written?

George read his line. “Dream!!! I win again!! Hand over your totem of undying.” His line delivery was just as Clay had always imagined. He knew George must be smiling so hard while reading.

Clay took a deep breath. “T-the two were playing another game of item roulette, but neither were streaming. They were by themselves, enjoying the first ounce of alone time they’ve gotten to share in a while. ‘I’m out of good items, G-George. I don’t think we can keep playing, you’ve taken everything I had.’”

“George looks at Dream, not wanting to end the fun. ‘Aw, cmon, you seriously don’t have anything else?’ He swaps between his new loot in his hotbar.”

Clay hesitates. He rereads his next line in his head, but can’t build the courage to say it out loud.

“Clay, it’s your line.” George encourages him.

He stutters for what feels like the hundredth time in the past five minutes. “‘H-how about we up the bet?’”

George giggles. It’s like he knows what he’s doing. Does he know? Clay’s heart races. “‘Ooh,’ George wonders. ‘What did you have in mind?’”

“Dream smirks,” Clay reads, no trace of a smirk anywhere on his face. How could he write himself this confident? “‘Whoever loses has to do one thing the other says. Anything at all.’” Clay hides his face in his hands, wondering how bad George must be cringing at this.  _ This is so embarrassing, I bet he’s ready to roast me as soon as we’re done reading. _

“‘Alright,’ George raises his eyebrows. ‘You’re on. But I  _ am _ on a lucky streak, so I hope you’re prepared.’”  _ He reads everything so easily. It must mean absolutely nothing to him. _ “The two stand by the dispenser, spamming the shift key in excitement. ‘Dirt block,’ George asserts as he hits the button.”

“As if waiting for his cue, a dirt block pops out of the dispenser. George stops hitting shift and stares at the screen. ‘Haha, yes! Finally!’”

“‘But... how…’” George’s previously energetic tone is replaced with one of disappointment. He was getting too deep into his role. It made Clay anxious.

Clay attempted to hide any trace of his own emotions in favor of what he had written. “‘Now then... what will my prize be? I’ve got a couple of ideas, but I want to make sure you’re okay with them first.’”

George laughed again, making Clay wince. “I didn’t read this far before I sent you this, is this going to turn into smut?” He glanced at his next line. “‘I trust you, Dream. You won fair and square. Do whatever you want to me.’” Hearing George say that sent Clay spiraling. He desperately wished this wasn’t just a sick fantasy he keeps hidden, but rather something he could share with George, something real between them.

“‘Check your email.’ Dream demands.”

“‘What? Dream, what are you-’ George is interrupted by a notification on his phone. One new email. A confirmation... for a plane ticket.” George whistles. “Wow Clay, a plane ticket? You’d never do that for me in real life. If only.”

Was that a challenge? A bet? Or was it just an offhand remark made to elicit some shred of laughter from his uncharacteristically nervous friend? Regardless of the intention, Clay is overcome with the most willpower he’s had all night. He furiously types into his search bar, nearly unaware of his actions. His hands are moving on autopilot, and before his brain can catch up, the deed is done.

“Clay,” George asks. “Did you want to keep reading? Or-”

“Check your email.”

**Author's Note:**

> hey thank you for reading!! this is my first fic ever i'm pretty sure. i wrote nearly all of this in one sitting but im posting it just a chapter at a time because I Can. let me know what yall thought <3


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